Harry Potter and the Rubber Ducky of Doom
by Roslyn Drycof
Summary: Malfoy is taking too long in Prefects' bathroom and Harry is impatient to take his own bath. He barges in and decides that if Malfoy won't leave, he'll share. Hilarity and tension follow. Mild slash, HPB doesn't exist HPDM. Oneshot


A/N: Lo and behold, the product of my overactive imagination. I've always wondered what Draco would look like in eyeliner. . .and what Harry would think. I hope you like this little PWP!

Warning: Contains some crude humor and slash. If you are not into male love, please hit the back button.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

Disclaimer: As we all know, JK Rowling in the only person in the entire world who owns Harry Potter, and I am not her. Sadly.

Harry Potter and the Rubber Ducky of Doom

_by: Roslyn Drycof_

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, stood in front of the portrait to the Prefects' bathroom, a scowl fixed on his handsome features. "Malfoy, open the fucking door!" he yelled angrily, his fist pounding against the aforementioned portrait. Luckily, the portrait's occupant was missing, or else he would have had a screaming painting to deal with, too. And he wasn't really in the mood for any more contrariness tonight.

A languid voice replied, "No, sorry, Potter. I'm not done yet."

Harry let out a growl as he kicked the portrait. "I've been waiting for half an hour! How long does it take to have a stupid bath!"

"A proper bath takes at least an hour and I've only been in here forty minutes."

The raven-haired Gryffindor banged his head against the stone wall of the corridor. He had to wait another twenty minutes! But curfew was in fifteen! He cursed fluently for the next few minutes until he got an idea. A wicked grin curved his lips and he took out his wand. With a single swish of the polished wood and the whisper of a single word, "_Alohamora_," the Prefects' bathroom was free to enter.

He put his want away and quietly slid the door open. Walking inside the spacious room, he let his eyes scan the area. A neatly folded pile of clothes sat on a chair that Malfoy must've conjured, since it had never been there before. Bubbles filled the large tub, nearly managing to hide the pale figure soaking in the warm water scented with vanilla and oranges. Draco Malfoy lay with his head propped against the side, his eyes closed. A smoky line of black lined his eyelids, accentuating the darkness of his long lashes. Harry froze. "Malfoy, are you wearing eyeliner!"

The blond-haired boy jerked his head up, his silver eyes snapping open. "Potter! What the hell are you doing in here!"

Harry took a few steps forward. "That _is_ eyeliner!" He laughed, his eyes glued on Malfoy's eyes. He hated to admit it, but it actually complemented Malfoy's delicate features.

Malfoy's smokey silver silver narrowed angrily, but the pink flush on his prominent cheekbones overpowered the glare he sent his rival. "I am not wearing eyelinger. I have no idea what you're going on about, Potter."

"Oh really? Then what is that charcoal grey stuff artfully ringing your eyes? Paint?" Harry said, mockingly.

The Ice Prince of Slytherin didn't deign to answer. He simply crossed his arms across his nicely defined upper body and gave his nemesis the Death Glare.

Harry let out a laugh at the sullen look on Malfy's face. "I didn't know you were into cross-dressing, but I guess there are some things people just don't know about other people."

This caused an explosive reaction in the wet teenager. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists and his eyes darkened with fury. "I am not a cross-dresser, you disgusting het who doesn't know a goddamn thing!"

Now that was original, Harry had to admit. He'd been called a lot of things in his life, but never insulted because of being heterosexual. Although. . .the whole heterosexuality thing was debatable. He wasn't sure exactly what he was, actually. "Never been insulted for being straight, Malfoy. It's an interesting experience, though. Thanks."

Malfoy growled at the sarcastic note in Harry's husky voice. "Just fucking leave. Or maybe you aren't straight after all? You like watching me bathe?"

Harry let a grin curl his lips and he crossed his arms, negligently, "Maybe."

The blond-haired teen's mouth dropped open and Harry had the pleasure of seeing him splutter. "W-what!"

Tears of mirth filled Harry's eyes and he doubled over, a hand rubbing over his streaming eyes. "Ohmigod, the look on your face! Ah haha!"

A stream of water shot out of the spacious tub and soaked Harry from his torso down. Another splash got him in the face. He jerked upright, a scowl on his features. "You got my clothes wet!"

"Serves you right for laughing!" The haughty Slytherin retorted, crossing his arms angrily. He looked so _gay_ that Harry had to hastily wipe the responding grin from his face. "Actually, Malfoy, it's debatable."

Draco frowned, his eyes narrowingly in a perplexed manner. "What's debatable?"

Harry wrinkled his nose and smacked his forhead. "What, do you have ADD or something?"

Defensively, the silver-eyed boy shook his head. "No! These bubbles are potent!" Silence reined for a few minutes and then realization dawned in his grey eyes. "Oh! The gay thing."

"Yeah, the gay thing." Harry snorted, sarcasm littering his voice. Was Malfoy on crack? Or were the bubbles that strong? He sniffed and blinked his eyes. Wow! What was in those bubbles? Smelled like Hecate's Tears, Ambrosia, and _Sourdre le Sang_. "Malfoy, do I smell Hecate's Tears, Am--"

He nodded, cutting off his raven-haired rival. "--brosia, and _Sourdre le Sang_. Yes. It's a special brew Snape made up. Hecate is for relaxation, Ambrosia for pleasure, and the Fountain of Life is basically what it says, gives life to a tired body."

Harry ran a hand through his messy, slightly wet hair. "That's an odd mix. The first two, I understand. But the last? What's up with that? It shouldn't make you less aware of your surroundings."

Draco smiled an indolent grin. "Oh, it gives a person strength, but doesn't necessarily make them alert or revitalize them. It's usually used in potions to increase sexual stamina."

"And that doesn't help explain its purpose in _your_ bubblebath."

A pout immediately curved Malfoy's rosebud-shaped lips. He sighed, despondently. "Yes, I would have no need of stamina, now would I? No one around to play with."

Harry nearly choked at the words Malfoy used, but sympathized with the sentiment. There was no one around at Hogwarts of the homosexual persuasion, ever since Oliver Wood left. Remembering him, Harry felt a light flush climb up his face. The player for Puddlemere United had visited Hogwarts at the end of year to discuss several things with Madame Hooch and he had been in top form. Windswept brown curls, an easy smile, and a bright sparkle to his chestnut eyes, he had mesmirized the sixteen year old Harry.

Lazily, Draco murmured, "Who you thinking 'bout?"

Amazed at the blond's complete change in character from only minutes earlier, Harry blurted out, "Wood."

Draco frowned. "Wood? As in tree . . . ohh. Yes, mmm, Wood. Sure miss the guy."

"But he was a Gryffindor!" Harry protested, surprised at the longing in Malfoy's smooth voice.

The other boy leaned back in his bath, half-closing his eyes as if to savor a good memory. "Yes, but he could sure give a guy a run for his money. I only got to third base with him before he had to go, but a romping good time it was."

Harry slid down the bathroom wall, astonishment making his knees weak. "Y-you did stuff with him?"

Draco nodded and Harry immediately asked, "Is he good?"

"I see, the gay thing _is_ debatable with you. And no, he wasn't good. He was mind-blowing. Taught me a few things I am itching to use, but of course I can't, because there is no one at the this fucking boring school who's willing to shag a guy!" How easily Malfoy could descend into a rant, Harry noted.

It was starting to feel a bit too warm in the bathroom and Harry unbuttoned his shirt. Glistening beads of perspiration covered his chest. He slipped the shirt off and closed his eyes, leaning back against the cool tile in an attempt to feel some relief. Malfoy sure kept the water steaming hot if there was this much humidity in the air.

A few moments passed and Harry felt an intense gaze locked on him. His slowly opened his eyes to find Malfoy looking at him, or to be more exact, his naked torso. Perversely, Harry stretched his arms above his head and stretched, knowing it showed off his upper body even more. Malfoy blinked and forced his eyes away, a gasp caught in his throat. What the hell was Potter doing! He could not be showing off in front of _him_ of all people!

"You know, Malfoy, I've waited long enough. I don't care if you're still in there. I need a bath," Harry declared, standing up. A hand went to the fastenings of his trousers and deftly slipped the button through the hold and pulled the zipper down. Draco squeaked, shouting, "You can't! Stop! This is my bath, you mannerless cretin!"

"Malfoy, I'm hot, I'm tired, and I ache all over. I need a bath."

"You can wait till I'm done!"

Harry ignored the blond's feeble protests. "You don't look anywhere near done and I want to get in, so get over it." He pulled his pants down and neatly folded them and his shirt. He put a hand on the waistband of his green boxers, watching for Malfoy's reaction. As he'd suspected, the silver-eyed Slytherin slapped a hand over his eyes. Within moments, the boxers were tossed aside and a golden body slid into the bubble-filled water of the prefects' tub. A sigh escaped Harry's lips and he settled in, resting on a convenient ledge.

Malfoy cautiously uncovered his eyes and let out a breath of relief when he saw that Potter was decently covered by the frothy bubbles. A calm silence prevailed for a few minutes, until Harry casually commented, "For someone as experienced as you profess to be, you're suspiciously modest."

Draco glared balefully. "_You_ are not Oliver Wood. You are my rival and it is perfectly normal that I don't want to see you naked."

Harry snorted. "You're also a very horny, frustrated teenaged guy who hasn't gotten it on with anyone in over six months. Malfoy, you are full of bullshit."

A malicious sneer curled the Slytherin's lips. "Then it's got to be worse for you, having never gotten anywhere with anyone."

Harry didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he nodded pleasantly. "Yes, it's terrible. But the Boy Who Lived has standards, you know. I can't just shag _anyone_."

"If you're waiting for old Voldie, he's impotent."

The emerald-eyed Gryffindor fell off his ledge and slipped under the surface of the water. He came up seconds later, gasping for air. "That is the nastiest thing I have ever heard, Malfoy!"

Pleasure glinted in Draco's eyes. "I know. It was nasty, wasn't it?"

Harry shook away the horrible image that pervaded his imagination, glaring blackly at his rival. "I'll get you for that."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm wondering, just how high are your standards? I know mine are pretty high, but then again, I am the richest and second most powerful wizard of our generation."

Harry resettled onto his ledge, lazily moving a hand through the nearby bubbles. "Oh, I don't know. No one in Hufflepuff, they're too wimpy. And Ravenclaw always thinks too much. They wouldn't be much fun, always analyzing every move you make. Only Slytherin and Gryffindor is even debatable, but I can't stand Slytherin, as you know, and too many Gryffindors think with their emotions before their minds."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the Boy Who Lived. "Like you don't do the same thing, you hypocrite."

Emerald eyes darkened and Harry let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe in the past, but I'm learning the benefits of being a little more Slytherin."

"Dear Merlin, I've died and gone to heaven! The Golden Boy has just admitted to Slytherin superiority!"

"Malfoy, you jerk. I didn't admit that and you know it."

A dramatic sigh from the blond Slytherin blew several bubbles away from him. "Can't fault a guy for hoping."

A comfortable silence descended on the prefect bathroom as the two boys sat on their opposite sides of the large tub, relaxing in the pleasantly hot water and taking in the soothing scents of the luxurious bubbles.

Five minutes passed, and then Harry, his eyes heavily lidded, asked Malfoy a question. "How far have you really gotten?"

The silver-eyed teen narrowed his eyes at the other boy, a considering look in his eyes. When he spoke, it was in a low voice. "Third, with Wood. Actually, he's the only one who ever even looked my way."

Harry sat up in the water from where he'd been indolently lounging. He couldn't believe what Malfoy had just confessed. Surely it was a lie. But the bitterness in his voice and the pain lurking in his silver eyes confirmed his words. "But you're the Prince of Slytherin."

Malfoy looked away, a sneer curling his rosebud lips. "Yes, and everyone secretly despises me. They love my money, my family's power. Not me. Never . . . me."

In the broken edge of Malfoy's voice, Harry heard the words that resounded inside his heart every day he stepped into the Great Hall, every time he saved the day, every time he screwed up. And he knew just how blind he'd been.

He looked at the clenched jaw of his rival, at the taut line of his throat as he fought to control the pain that had suddenly caught him in its grip. Malfoy hadn't meant to reveal his pain. It just swept him up in its grasp because pain never goes away and always waits for a person's weak moments.

"I understand. You know how I said I had high standards? That's not true. I'd give anything for anyone to want me. Me, not the famous Boy Who Lived. No one wants me. They never have, not since Voldemort murdered the only people who ever did."

"What about Granger and the Weasel?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "They did, for a while. But they wanted me to be the hero too, and I failed them too many times. For once, I just want someone to want me. I want someone who hates the hero part, someone who doesn't want me to save them."

His cheeks flushed and he turned to grip the side of the tub. He climbed out of the water and grabbed his clothes. "I'm done. I'll leave you to finish your bath alone.

Just as he was putting on his trousers, an arm reached out and grabbed his leg. Harry's eyes shot down to see Malfoy there, an angry look on his face. "No! You're not going to run away like the coward!"

Harry jerked out of his grasp, his breathing becoming rapid. "Let me go. I have to go!"

"No! I won't let you, damnit!" The blond-haired Slytherin grabbed his muscular arm and yanked. Harry fell back into the tub with a hoarse shout. Almost immediately, he tried to clamber out of the water, but Malfoy quickly grabbed his shoulders in an iron-clad grip. "You're not going anywhere, Potter."

"Let me go!"

"No! No, you are going to listen to what I want. You know what I want more than anything? I want someone who hates my money, hates my family's power. I want someone who doesn't expect anything of me. Anything."

Harry had been struggling all throughout Malfoy's confession, but suddenly froze. "You can't want that. You can't! Don't you understand!"

"I understand perfectly! For once in my miserable existence, I actually understand!" His silver eyes blazing, Draco stared at his rival.

His shoulders slumping in defeat, Harry closed his eyes. So this was how the story ended. A happy ending. It was something he'd always dreamt of and always dreaded. Happy endings left people content, without any adventure. He didn't want that.

"But, Potter, this isn't going to be some fairytale happy ending. I plan on making your life very difficult, understood?"

The hero who had never wanted to be a hero raised his head and looked into the eyes of the one person who understood him. And he smiled. Ah, so _this_ was how the story ended.

Long after the two boys departed the prefect's bathroom, the tub drained and the humidity dissipated, life stirred. An object which spent its many years in the bathroom, usually on a nearby shelf, but sometimes in the water, glowed with satisfaction. Its black eyes glittered and its plastic face twisted into a smile.

_I'm not out of touch, after all. It took some manipulating, but I finally brought two more misplaced rivals together. I'm good, real good_, a yellow ducky by the name of Egbert thought to himself as he lay on the bottom of the tiled tub.


End file.
